Chapter 264

I didn’t see her again for a week, but in that time, like the stalker I had become, I was working in the shop just across the street Mondays to Thursdays for five hours, Friday, Saturday and Sundays I worked in another, closer to my own place. On my third day, she entered the store while I was stocking the shelves; her scent startled me, vanilla, mint and lilac.  Stronger than any of the soaps I was putting up, she is here! She’s here! Zed signaled as though my nose were broken, that I couldn’t feel my whole self-come alive as she stepped over the threshold. But that was just it, around this girl, I wasn’t myself, I wasn’t aware, not really, turning abruptly I crashed right into her. Her face flushed and surprised, “Oh my, I’m so sorry, that was – I,” I shook my head probably looking like a spaz. Ask for her name! Ask for her name! Zed howled. “It’s fine, it’s my fault,” I kneeled down picking up the fallen soaps and she helped, I swallowed, dazed, “Uhm… thank you, but – you don’t have to help,” I said. “No, I was…” she didn’t finish and when I looked up she was gazing at me, as though I was some kind of puzzle. After the last soap was placed in the box, she went about her way, and I was angry with myself, greatly disappointed, I still hadn’t figured out her name. You could just ask her? When she finished, I went to ring up her purchases, she began repeatedly looking over her shoulder which instantly sent me on guard, “Sorry for holding you up,” I blurted out, “Y-you didn’t,” she replied with wide hazel eyes, “Oh is – is someone bothering you?” I asked and hoped she wouldn’t think I was invading her privacy, even though you are… No,” she whispered, but I listened to her heart, it raced, her voice even changed. She was lying, but I continued bagging, “So… what’s your name?” I heard myself ask as I rang her up. She didn’t answer right away; instead she eyed me suspiciously, never meeting my eyes, while I watched hers. She started at my fingers, then up my wrist, arms then down the other one, until she lifted her head, giving me her money, “My name is Nora Caven,” my mate said, taking her bags and change, rushing out from the shop crossing the street and heading into her building. “Nora,” I murmured throughout my whole shift, thinking and seeing her behavior, analyzing it, each time getting worried, and telling myself I was being paranoid. X _ o _ PRESENT _ o _ X When the house appeared to be empty I went down to the kitchen to get some food, my wolf weak, we didn’t hear it, the heartbeat. Lynn. Listening hard, or as best as I could with a weak wolf, I tried to see if Claudia was here and hopefully that was the reason why Lynn was in the house. No such luck. Walking to the hotplate I reached for the dish my mom laid away for me, then a fork. Ignoring that Lynn was even seated at a stool, hoping for both our sakes she would just let me be, but I didn’t have that luck. “Why?” she asked sounding like a wounded animal, the pain evident, but more proof that we weren’t mates, I couldn’t feel that pain she had, not even an ounce of it, “Theo accepted Jenny, what does it matter if you were brought here against your will, you found your mate… you found me,” she stressed, “Why won’t you let us be happy Walter? What is it about me that you don’t like?” “That you aren’t my Nora, Lynn. That’s what I don’t like about you. That you aren’t my mate,” I replied, grabbing my food, and heading back to my room, disgruntled. . . Oakley POV I’m on the ground, flat on my butt, shocked but all I see is the sneer on the face of a large man that’s gunning for Chelsea and suddenly I’m lost, my perception changes, the images blur and mix. When you’re little, a young child, when things are happening, you’re learning what each thing means, what causes things, what happens after. You explore the environment around you. I didn’t know. My perception of what happened had evolved, but that moment was unchangeable, or was it? Because right now, warm – humid morning heat is replaced by cool evening night and walls painted in scenic pined forests turn into lush layers of thick trunked palm trees that canopy over the forest. ‘Be real quiet Bumblebee… I – I love you… don’t come out… not until you hear daddies voice.’ The loud crack, deafening. Thunderous. Hidden away, nearly four years old, I thought the gunshot was thunder, because that was what I knew made that sound. The type of sound that shook the house, that frightened me, and made my hold myself tight. On normal nights during a storm, when I heard that sound, I’d leave my room, run straight into momma and daddy’s room, because they’d protect me. ‘Be real quiet Bumblebee… I – I love you… don’t come out… not until you hear daddies voice.’ A booming crack, my body shakes and I don’t know but all I know is momma said I should be quiet. Be real quiet. I hear the pop, I hear thunder, and on instinct I lean forward ready to leave my hiding space, and go to momma because it’s thunder, but in that same moment when I lean forward I hear her, don’t come out. So I tense afraid of thunder, hold myself, curl into a small ball because, that loud pop means lightening. From my crawl space, I can’t see it, so that makes it better. Four year old me doesn’t hear thunder again that night.